


Anguis in Herba

by WednesdaysDaughter



Category: Criminal Minds, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, Angst and Humor, F/M, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Team as Family, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdaysDaughter/pseuds/WednesdaysDaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Not to gross anyone out more than they already are, but has anyone found the victims' skin?” Lydia asks and Stiles gags.</p><p>“I don't even want to consider the answer to that question Lyds,” Stiles complains and Allison grimaces in agreement.</p><p>When a serial killer from his home town runs rampant, Stiles Stilinski (Technical Analyst for the B.A.U.) along with his team must find him in time to save one of their own from ending up like the first three victims: Poisoned and skinned alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Would You Like Some Skin With That?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe so much of this adventure to my friend Madison. Without her passion and excitement I would've been more hesitant to tackle this. I had three people look over it so all the mistakes should have been corrected.

“To take revenge halfheartedly is to court disaster; either condemn or crown your hatred.”

\- Pierre Corneille

 

**Redding, California**

 

When he hears the loud pop coming from his left rear tire, Frank Moore swears violently.

It’s pouring down rain and he can barely see three feet in front of him. Frank’s forced to pull over next to an empty alley and he pulls a coat on hastily before getting out of the car to assess the damage. He continues to swear under his breath as he sees the blowout. The rain tappers off into a light mist and a noise coming from behind him makes Frank jump. 

He jerks around, but no one is there. The alley is scarcely lit by the streetlight he parked his car under and Frank can faintly make out the shape of the dumpster. Shaking the noise off, Frank pops open the trunk to pull out the jack. Something clangs against the dumpster and Frank drops his lung wrench. Spine tight, chills race up Frank’s back as he gets the sudden sensation of being watched. Slowly he turns and as he stares into the alley, Franks sees a shadow move slowly towards him.

“Who’s there? Show yourself… I’m armed!” Frank shouts bending down to pick up the wrench. He brandishes it around like a weapon, eyes straining to see through the darkness for the figure he had just seen. It continues to sprinkle, but Frank doesn’t see the shadow again. He waits a couple minutes before turning his back and addressing the tire.

He’s halfway done with removing the bolts when he feels it: A sharp pain at the back of his neck, like a paper cut. Frank wipes the back of his neck and he’s able to make out the blood coating his fingertips.

“What in the Hell…?” he wonders before his back starts to cramp and his legs lock up. He groans in pain as the tremors begin to wrack his body and when he slumps over – face next to the busted tire – Frank can see someone standing on the other side of his car.

He tries to call out for help, but his voice is trapped in his throat and the panic welling in his chest makes it hard to breathe. Frank is forced to watch the person walk away until he can’t see them anymore and he feels someone crouch down to touch the cut on the back of the neck. The person laughs under his breath and the sound sends fear shooting through Frank’s veins.

“Don’t try to fight it,” the voice says.

Frank struggles anyway and his attacker sighs in disappointment. “Oh Frank, you never were really good at taking orders. It’s okay though – I’ll teach you how to be better. The best: Dare I say a winner even.”

Frank feels the click of recognition in the back of his brain, but it slowly gives way to terror as he feels his arms being pulled above his head and he groans in protest as he’s pulled across the sidewalk until he’s next to the passenger door.

His attacker manages to lift him into the passenger seat, but doesn’t bother buckling him in.

 “Trust me Frank, a seatbelt isn’t going to save you from what I have planned.”

He loses track of time.

His limbs are still stiff and the pain in his neck grows worse with each passing second. They must have been driving for hours by the time Frank feels the car stop and he’s being pulled and tossed on the ground like a sack of potatoes. He’s dragged through a door and into a dark room. He didn’t get a good look at his surroundings, but Frank has the feeling that it doesn’t matter. Hopelessness begins to creep upon him and the silence is ringing in his ears.

 When he feels the blade against his skin Frank tries to in vain to scream, but nothing comes out: Nothing, but blood.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - -

**Quantico, Virginia**

 

“Tell me I’m a God.”

 Derek Hale smiles around his coffee cup as he turns in time to see Stiles Stilinski strolling up with a stack of files in his arms.

“You’re a God,” he replies easily and Stiles’ face lights up.

“I think you’re an idiot, but that’s just me,” a voice adds and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“You’re just jealous of my insane technological know-how Erica,” Stiles retorts and Erica grins before throwing an arm around him.

“Nah, geeks are so not in right now.”

“Oh yeah and I suppose that agents who work in counter-terrorism are,” Stiles teases.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Stiles jumps when a deep voice joins their conversation.

“Jesus Christ Boyd! Hasn’t Erica put a bell on you yet?” Stiles clutches his chest with his free hand and Boyd just smiles enigmatically.

During this whole exchange Derek continues to sip his coffee until Isaac joins him after completing the daily crossword puzzle - in Russian.

“Did Lydia check your answers yet?” Derek asks and Isaac frowns.

“She tried to, but Allison cut her off before she could snag the paper from my hands. I don’t know why she doesn’t get her own paper,” Isaac grumbles and Derek shrugs his shoulders.

“Well it was nice Stilinski, but we’re heading out. We’re needed in Chicago for some reason that Deaton refuses to elaborate on,” Erica sighs and Stiles nods in understanding.

“I’m real glad that you two found a place to settle into, but at the same time I’m sorry that your leader is the elusive and cryptic Alan Deaton.”

“Careful, he might hear you say that,” Boyd warns as Erica grabs his hands and pulls him away from the bullpen.

“Eh, I think I can take him.” Stiles waves and turns his attention back to Derek and Isaac who are both smiling at him.

“What? I totally could!” Stiles declares, but before either of them can agree – or disagree – Allison calls for their attention. She looks apologetic when she waves them over to the case room and Stiles groans loudly as he reluctantly walks towards her. Derek and Isaac follow, dragging their feet more than necessary. This was supposed to be their weekend off – but obviously the universe hated them.

“Sorry guys, but this case is time sensitive,” Allison informs them and Stiles is already pulling out his laptop before sitting next to Lydia who is in deep conversation with Chris Argent.

“What’s the deal oh Captain, my Captain?” Stiles addresses Chris who gestures towards the front when Allison pulls up their latest case.

The images of bodies skinned and submerged in water fill the viewing screen and Stiles pales.

“Forget I asked.”

“I hope none of you ate before you came in,” Allison begins and Derek watches Stiles rub his stomach absently.

“I keep hoping one day I’ll come in and we’ll have a case where the worst thing we see are decapitated stuffed animals or something,” Stiles bemoans and John snorts from across the table.

“What, like that one time when you were six and Scott accidentally pulled the arms off of Mr. Howl? Stiles, you cried for weeks.”

Stiles glares at his dad.

“Wow thanks for that embarrassing trip down memory lane Dad. Now these guys are going to respect me even less!”

“If it makes you feel any better studies show that children with close emotional attachment with stuffed animals are less likely to commit violence against real animals – thus leading to the potential of violence against people,” Isaac assures him and Stiles can’t fight his grin.

“Thanks boy genius, I feel much better.”

“And I’d feel much better if we got this meeting started,” Chris interrupted and Stiles smiled at him, chagrined.

Allison nods at Chris and begins.

“Redding, California – Three victims in six weeks so far and this woman,” she pulls up a picture of a young black female, “Carey Gray went missing ten days ago. If she was taken by our killer than we have four days until her body shows up in the Sacramento River.”

“Look at how their bodies are displayed – just thrown into the river without any thought to where they’ll end up. Obviously this unsub doesn’t care about their victims,” Derek says flipping through the file in front of him.

“Is there a connection between the victims?” Isaac asks and Allison shakes her head, “None found so far.”

“Doesn’t mean that there isn’t one. Give me a couple hours and I’ll see what I can dig up.” Stiles can already feel his brain whirling with future search possibilities.

“Not to gross anyone out more than they already are, but has anyone found their skin?” Lydia asks and Stiles gags.

“I don't even want to consider the answer to that question Lyds,” Stiles complained and Allison grimaced in agreement. 

“Maybe not, but it’s a good question and it needs to be answered if we’re going to get a better of idea what our unsub is up to,” Lydia retorts.

“Lydia has a point, maybe the unsub is keeping the skin as a souvenir,” John suggests.

“That would mean he needs a way of preserving it. Like a deer’s hide,” Isaac mumbles – eyes focused on the screen. 

“Oh God, if he’s making a coat out of people’s skin I so don’t want to know and if you find out that’s the case please do not tell me,” Stiles pleaded and Derek absently pats his arm in comfort. Stiles sends a grateful look in his direction before Chris stand up.

“If we want to find Carey, our best chance is to leave now. Wheels up in thirty and Stiles, the local police have a decent tech center if you feel like coming with us for this one.”

Stiles normally doesn’t go with them during cases. If it’s an “all-hands-on-deck” situation then Stiles is already on the plane waiting to go. He’s not trained to fight in the field, but having a dad like John Stilinski leaves one prepared at a young age to shoot an attacker. Stiles looks at John who shrugs. Years of his son working with the BAU have taught John that Stiles is going to do what he wants and just because they work together doesn’t mean that his kid is going to play it safe every time.

“How decent are we talking?” Stiles asks and Chris bites back a smile.

“It’s not up to your Bat Cave, of course nothing that’s considered legal is, but it’s enclosed and I have on good authority that they just bought some new equipment that won’t be getting here for another week."

Stiles made sure everything he had was as up-to-date as possible, but even working for the FBI didn’t prevent the wait associated with snail mail. He pretends to think about it, but everyone already knows what his answer will be.

“My bag’s already packed sir, I’ll see you on the plane.”

“I had a feeling that’s what you’d say,” Chris replied and with that everyone files out of the room and heads to the elevator.

“Need a ride hot stuff?” Stiles asks as he and Derek head towards the elevators.

“Do I have a choice?” Derek asks playfully and Stiles shakes his head.

“Then I guess I’m riding with you.”

“I like a man who knows not to argue when he’s beaten,” Stiles grins and Lydia’s laughter behind them makes them both startle.

“Please Stilinski – you like men period.”

Stiles looks at Derek and shrugs in defeat, “When she’s right, she’s right.”

“Hey, I might be a little late. I might stop by the house and see Scott and Thomas before we leave,” Allison admits when the elevator doors slide close.

“Oh yeah, Scott’s got the weekend off… weren’t you three supposed to go on a picnic or something this Saturday?” Stiles asks and Allison nods sadly.

“We were, but duty calls. Do you think he’ll be mad?” Allison turns to look at Stiles and she worries her bottom lip.

Stiles smiles softly and rubs her arm.

“Disappointed, yes. Mad, no way – not at you. He knows our job pretty much screams less vacation time, but he understands that we have to do it. You lucked out with Scott. Never have I met a guy more forgiving and understanding than Scott is,” Stiles assured her.

“Well, he’d have to be seeing as how he grew up with you as a best friend,” Lydia joked and Stiles pushed her lightly.

“What is today? Tease Stiles Day? Did I miss the memo?” Stiles pouts until Derek wraps his arm around his shoulder.

“We can’t help it that you’re so easy to wind up baby boy.”

Isaac snorts and Allison hides her smile behind her hand.

“I hate you all and you,” Stiles glares at Derek, “can walk to the airport for all I care.”

“Oh Stiles don’t be like that. I promise I will refrain from teasing you until this case is over,” Derek promises.

Stiles huffs, but then slyly looks at Derek from under his lashes. The elevator doors opening prevent Stiles from replying, but he doesn’t lock Derek out of his car and he waves to the girls in the parking lot before driving off. Chris and John are already waiting on the plane by the time Derek and Stiles get there.

Stiles pulls his laptop out and is flipping through the M.E’s report when Isaac and Lydia show up arguing in Russian about something Stiles couldn’t even begin to comprehend. As expected, Allison was a couple minutes late, but she looked more relaxed and squeezed Stiles’ shoulder when she walked past so no one said anything.

“How’s my grandson?” Chris asks Allison and she sits across from him, shrugging out of her coat.

“As fussy as ever, but he didn’t scream when I left so I’ll take what I can get. Scott says hi by the way and to be careful.”

“Always the worry-wart, that one,” John sighs fondly and when the pilot tells them they’re ready for take-off they all settle in and spend the flight breaking down what they know and what they don’t know. When they touch down, they split up – going where Chris assigned them – and Stiles makes sure to give Derek their customary fist bump farewell.

“Try not to get shot okay?” Stiles requests – playful and serious at the same time.

“Ditto,” Derek replies and he pairs up with Isaac for the first victim’s house with Stiles’ laughter ringing in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I'm feeling pretty good about this. I'm still not sure how many chapters this is going to be and I'll try to update every weekend - work and school willing. So feel free to let me know what y'all think - I can use all the encouragement.


	2. Maybe Flirting Will Help?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha ha, like two years later and here's a new chapter. 
> 
> I suck, I am so sorry.

When she came to, Carey Gray could feel a sharp burn along her left leg.

It took her a handful of minutes to collect herself enough to look down. What she saw made her nearly faint in terror and bile rose in her throat. From the knee down to just above the ankle was covered in blood and Carey could see the various connecting tissue and muscles than her skin normally hid. She couldn’t control her whimpers and the tears stung her eyes as they slid slowly down her pale face. Blood stained her teeth and her fingers jerked erratically as the paralytic began to wear off.

“Ah-ah-ah Carey, we can’t have you moving and disrupting my progress,” a voice behind her hissed and she felt the familiar prick of a needle against her neck.

“Please,” she begged, “please let me go.”

Saliva gathered in the back of her throat and when she caught sight of the scalpel she choked and thrashed and cried until her muscles tensed. Screaming internally, Carey prayed for death as her captor sliced into her right leg. Eventually the sight became too much and everything went blissfully black.

“Oh Carey,” he whispered, stroking a hand down her damp cheek, “you can’t ignore me forever.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

“He’s a cocky son-of-a-bitch.” Lydia surmised.

Derek looked up from Carey’s body that the local officials pulled from the river earlier that morning and scowled. In haste, the unsub had dumped the body before she was fully skinned; unlike the previous victims. It told them he was nervous or impatient, or worse – both.

“Allison’s heading to the M.E.’s office with Isaac.”

Chris helped Derek up as John walked over after talking to the Sheriff, “I don’t think I need to tell you the locals are getting restless. It’s only a matter of time before the unsub grabs their next victim.”

Without being told, Derek flips open his phone and calls Stiles.

“You’ve reached the part in our investigation where playful banter is exchanged. Speak and entertain me!”

John looked heavenward and Derek played along, like always.

“Well actually I’m hoping this is the part where you tell me you have something for us.”

“Unfortunately,” Stiles corrected, “this is the part where I tell you that I have nothing.”

Derek stared at his phone in disbelief. Stiles was rarely, if ever, unable to find at least one connection between victims. It might take him a while, but six hours after touchdown and not even a breadcrumb? Derek pictured Stiles gnawing on his bottom lip and momentarily felt bad for pushing. Stiles’ sigh brought him back to the present.

“Look, I’ve hit a snag or two but I just need a little more time to untangle the mess that is the FWPP’s filing system.”

“Wait, which one of our victim’s was in witness protection?” Lydia asks, brow furrowed and arms crossed.

“Why didn’t we know about this earlier?” Chris asks and though they can’t see it, they know Stiles is holding his hands up in surrender.

“Because I have access to tools none of you mortals can touch.”

Rolling her eyes, Lydia pushed, “Spill Stiles.”

“Carey Gray, or as she was once known as Lindsay Turner, went into the Witness Protection Program when she was eighteen and… oh shit.” Stiles’ tone sent them on high alert.

“What is it?” Chris demands.

“She was a senior at Beacon Hills High School six years ago and witnessed the murder of her family just after graduation.”

“Beacon Hills? But isn’t that where you…” Lydia trailed off and Chris looked over at John who had gone pale.

“Yeah, it is.” Stiles voice hangs in the air before he clears his throat and continues, “She moved to New York for college and attempted to go off grid. That’s why it was harder for me to find anything about her past, but she clearly didn’t do a good enough job because I have everything about her life pre-WP.”

“So are we thinking whoever killed her parents is the unsub?” Derek hedged.

“What about the others: Frank Moore and Brock James? Where’s the connection?” John asked.

Stiles is deathly quiet as he types away and his response does little to ease the team. “Well Pops if I tell you that they too attended BHHS can we agree that this case is officially creepy?”

John swears under his breath and looks around; searching for anything they might have missed along the riverbed. Chris calls Allison, who agrees to meet back at the police station after Isaac examines the bodies of the first two victims. Derek drifts away from the others so his conversation won’t be heard.

“Are you okay?”

Stiles snorts and takes a deep breath; running his hands through his hair before reluctantly answering.

“Honestly, I’m freaking out a bit. I remember hearing about that case from Melissa. It was the new sheriff’s first homicide and they never found the killer; not even with the help of the description Lindsay provided.”

At a lost for what to say to comfort Stiles, Derek slides back into their usual back and forth in hopes of providing a distraction.

“Well how about you use that beautiful brain of yours and solve this case for us and we’ll go out for drinks when we get back.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do Mr. Hale,” Stiles teases, “but it’s appreciated nonetheless.”

Satisfied to hear the gravity lifted from Stiles’ voice, Derek hangs up and follows John back to the car, but he hangs back when he feels the hairs on his neck stand up.

“Derek?” John asks when he sees Derek lean back and scan the woods across the river. Before he can reach for his gun, Derek shakes the feeling off and slides into the front passenger seat.

“It’s nothing,” he assures, but John makes a mental note and watches the tree line as they drive off.

\- - - - - - - - - -

By the time night falls, Stiles has pulled out all the stops and compiled a list of possible abductees.

“The only three people left on the list that live in the area are in police custody so I’m feeling pretty good about our chances of catching this dirtbag.”

Lydia  ruffles Stiles’ hair quickly with her free hand and tells him that she admires his misguided optimism. “He has a point Lydia, the unsub might grow desperate and make a mistake.”

Stiles beams at Allison and barely refrains from sticking his tongue out at Lydia because one, he’s an FBI agent for Christ’s sake and two, Lydia would probably shoot him. As if sensing his train of thought, Lydia smirks and Stiles hurries to catch up with Derek who’s busy inhaling the aroma of coffee Isaac handed him.

“I think she’s plotting my death,” he stage whispers.

Derek looks behind him and laughs when Lydia winks and raises her cup in a mock toast.

“You may be right. You probably shouldn’t sleep alone tonight.”

John clears his throat and Stiles’ cheeks flush when Derek chokes on a sip of coffee. Chris doesn’t try to hide his smile and Allison makes sure to snap a picture of their embarrassment to send to Scott.

“Are you trying to seduce me SSA Hale?” Stiles inquires, carefully avoiding his father’s eyes.

“I’d say it sounds more like he’s succeeding, wouldn’t you Allison?”

Allison shoves Lydia’s shoulder playfully and shrugs at the betrayed look Derek shoots her.

“There will be no seducing while on a case.” John’s stern tone makes Derek’s spine automatically straighten and Stiles mumbles darkly into his energy drink until something occurs to him.

“Wait, does that mean if we’re not on a case, seduction can be a thing?”

John’s groan is covered by Allison and Lydia’s hysterical laughter and it’s Derek’s turn to flush. The ride to the hotel is quiet, but Stiles makes sure to gently bump Derek with his hip before retreating to the room he shares with John.

“Isaac says the M.E. discovered why the victim’s didn’t fight back,” Chris explained and Derek, fresh from the shower, sat down to listen.

“They were paralyzed. The slice on the back of their neck turned out to be an entry point for Curare.”

Derek frowned, “Isn’t that what they use on arrowheads and blowgun darks in South America?”

Chris nodded, “Not only that, but the unsub knows exactly how much to administer to keep them alive, but immobile while he skins them. Too much and the victim dies of suffocation, which is how he finishes them off if the blood loss doesn’t kill them first.”

“And the skin?” Derek hesitates and seeing Chris’ grimace he regrets asking.

“The M.E. found slivers of human skin in their digestive tracks along with trace amounts of water.”

Derek feels his dinner lurch in his stomach.

“He made them eat their own skin?”

“You probably shouldn’t tell Stiles that part.”

Chris winks and Derek motions to throw his towel at him, but refrains. No matter how close you might be, it’s never a good idea to get naked in front of your boss. John and Lydia stop by to split up duties while Allison and Stiles Skype with Scott. Isaac trailed in behind them with an armful of files from the station.

“How’s Melissa?” Derek asks and John huffs, “She’s worried, as usual, about us chasing serial killers. She told me she’d try to reach out to folks back home, but I think I was able to discourage her.”

“Think the unsub might spook?” Chris asks.

When John shakes his head, Lydia speaks up.

“He may not spook, but if he gets wind that people from Beacon Hills are on the scene he might focus his attention on us.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? I mean, statistically speaking serial killers who target law enforcement are more likely to be caught before a significant loss of life,” Isaac  recited, his eyes not leaving the pictures from the first crime scene.

“Call me crazy, but I don’t really like the idea of a serial killer focusing his attention on us,” Lydia quipped.

Isaac’s lips quirked and Chris filled John and Lydia in on the poison found in the three victims. By the time Allison drops by to collect Lydia, Chris and John have come up with a narrow list of circumstances Stiles can use to narrow down the suspects.

“Who wants to be the one to tell Stiles that the killer might be someone in his graduating class?” Lydia asks and everyone quickly averts their eyes except John who sighs and says he’ll handle it before heading back to his room.

“Scott offered to fly out,” Allison volunteers, “He’s worried about Stiles and John.”

Chris, who normally adherers to the ‘work is not the place for familial affection’, pulls Allison into a brief hug and assures her that Stiles and John will be fine.

“They have us, remember?” Lydia comforts and together they head next door and settle down for the night.  

With a sober mood suddenly present, Derek bids Chris goodnight and lets Isaac hog the bathroom while he sets his alarm. He debates whether or not to text Stiles goodnight, like he does most nights they’re away on a case and ultimately routine wins out.

‘ _Goodnight Stiles’_

His reply is instant.

‘ _Night Derek ;)_ ’

Shaking his head, Derek crawls into bed and falls asleep before Isaac finishes in the bathroom.

\- - - - - - - - - -

What feels like only hours later, Isaac shakes Derek awake.

“I’m catching a ride with Lydia to the M.E.’s office. She says she found something different with the third victim.”

Groggy, but fighting his way to alertness, Derek sits up. “What is it?”

“Skin caught between the two bottom front teeth.”

“Couldn’t it just be her own skin the unsub forced her to eat?”

Isaac shakes his head, “This skin is Caucasian.”

Derek’s instantly awake.

“DNA?”

“We’re hopeful, but not overly.”

“So, not a Stiles level of confidence,” Derek confirms and Isaac’s huff of laughter makes him smile.

“Unfortunately not, but we’ll see. Chris wants to you meet him at the station after you’ve grabbed breakfast.”

Derek nods, “Go get ‘em boy wonder.”

Isaac laughs, “Stiles said the same thing this morning when he called me.”

Not wanting to keep Lydia waiting, Derek waves him away and lounges in bed until he can’t put off getting dressed any longer. It’s not until he’s stepping out of the bathroom that Derek notices that something if off. His eyes dart around the room, eyeing his gun resting in its holster on the bedside table. Hair standing on edge like it had the day before; Derek slowly eases into the room and readies himself for a frontal attack.

He doesn’t take into account the closet behind him until it’s too late and when he feels a cut on the back of his neck, he jerks. Smacking his leg into Isaac’s bed and going down – sprawled across the sickly green carpet like a puppet with its strings cut.

Derek watches the unsub saunter towards him and as he fights to right himself he can feel the poison work its way through his body.

“Hello Agent Hale, so glad you decided to stick around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the third chapter will be the last and the longest. Hopefully it won't take me another two years to write it. I might need some encouragement ;)


	3. Don't Ignore Those Creep Vibes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna wait a few days to post this, but I decided y'all had waited long enough. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It doesn’t take long for the team to realize something is wrong.

Starting with Chris and ending with a fretful Stiles; by the time nine rolls around everyone has called Derek at least once and they all got his voicemail. Allison addresses the press when it becomes clear that the unsub has taken Derek and Stiles breaks protocol, at John’s urging, and calls Scott who talks him out of a panic attack that Lydia holds him through. Chris and Isaac head back to the hotel and find prints on the outside of the window next to Derek’s bed as well as a picked lock.

“He waited until I left.” Isaac swallows the lump in his throat and Chris is immediately there to assure him that the unsub would’ve found another opportunity to grab Derek if they had left together.

“He doesn’t fit the profile though. Sure his family is from Beacon Hills, but Derek moved to Chicago after his parents died when he was twelve.” Isaac puzzles out loud.

“Maybe he’s not after Derek,” Chris mutters and pulls out his phone to call John. “Maybe he’s after someone else.”

Stiles doesn’t contact Laura, Derek’s sister who heads Interpol’s London office while her boss is on maternity leave, but it’s a close call when he notices an e-mail from her in his personal account. Instead he calls Derek’s phone for the third time and he can’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed at the desperation in his voice.

“ _I’m doing this more for me at this point you know. The team is doing what it does best and if for some reason that psychopath is listening to this I want him to know we’re gonna find him and ship his happy ass to jail_.”

His messages devolve from there.

“ _Dude I really need you to be okay so just hang in there and we’ll come get you_.”

“ _If he harms a single strand of your luscious hair I swear to God I’ll kill him_.”

“ _Okay so maybe not kill him per say, but he’ll regret even thinking about you_.”

“ _Derek, what if I can’t find him? What if I miss something and the next body we find floating down the River Styx is yours? I’m freaking out and you’re the one who gets me to calm down_. _I need you to be here_.”

“ _I can’t lose you too Derek_.”

Allison makes it her mission to check up on Stiles since the end of her press conference. She brings him various energy drinks and snacks even though she ends up eating them when Stiles ignores every pastry. When he makes his breakthrough, Allison is studying the crime board in the next room and his cry of exultation sends her running – nearly colliding with Lydia.

“I need a raise I am so good!”

He’s out of his chair, running his fingers through his hair before throwing himself back in his chair and when he smiles at Lydia and Allison they don’t mention his wet eyes.

“You got a name?” Lydia asks.

“I got a name.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

Derek’s bottom lip is bleeding when he’s finally able to move his limbs.

The unsub had kicked him in the mouth before stringing him up against a chain fence. Completely powerless, Derek was positioned like a football goal; arms bent at the elbows and tied parallel to his head. The chain wrapped around his ankles bit into his skin, but he fought against his restraints anyway. The unsub watched him struggle, but didn’t dose him with the paralytic again.

“What do you want?” Derek spits which only makes the unsub laugh.

“Revenge, first and foremost of course, but right now in this moment I want to watch your team crumble and fall apart as they fail in their search to find you.”

He turns and Derek sees an old television flicker to life in time to see a rerun of Allison’s press conference.

“If anyone has seen this man,” a picture of Derek appeared next to her head, “please contact the authorities immediately. Special Agent Derek Hale was taken from his hotel room this morning by the man responsible for the recent murders. We’ve already released our profile to local law enforcement, but we’re opening a tip line in hopes that someone might be able to help us identify the following: The man we’re looking for is a male between the ages of twenty and twenty five and most likely he is Caucasian. He is a solitary individual and at first glance, he’s able to fit in well with a crowd. However there is something noticeably different about his personality. Our unsub is unable to fully mask his sociopathic tendencies and will most likely trigger alarms in your head when he does engage in conversation. We believe he is a native of the town Beacon Hills in the southern part of California. Please, if anyone you know fits this description please call the number below. That will be all for now.”

Derek could make out a scowl on the unsub’s face as the reporters on the screen began talking over one another, fighting to get Allison to answer their questions. John waved them off, resting a steady hand on her back and guiding Allison into the station.

“It’s funny you know,” the unsub began and he turned to face Derek with a wide smile stretched across his lips, “after his wife died Sheriff Stilinski came crawling back to Beacon Hills and tried to put his FBI days behind him. Then his spastic kid gets recruited by the government after he’s caught hacking into a secure database and suddenly John’s rushing back to Quantico: Leaving us to suffer in his absence at the hands of that hack replacement.”

Derek freezes as the unsub waltzes into his personal space and runs a scalpel down his cheek.

“I am going to make sure he regrets leaving Beacon Hills. I’m going to make sure he remembers my name.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

“Matt Daehler was born in Beacon Hills where he graduated a year after our three victims and – get this – he was originally thought to be a suspect in the murder of Lindsay Turner’s family, but the Sheriff at the time was friends with his mother Linda Daehler, they dated in high school, and didn’t take Lindsay’s claim seriously. Matt then went on to attend college in San Francisco where he was kicked out after pictures of various female students were found in his room, all of which were taken without their permission. After that he bounced from town to town until settling in Redding after his mother died of cancer six months ago.”

“That’s too early to be a trigger…” Isaac mumbled and Stiles held up his hand, signally that he wasn’t done.

“Pump your breaks Wally West and let me blow your mind. Three weeks ago when the killings started the first victim - Frank Moore was forced to relocate here after several allegations of child abuse were brought to light in his home town, you guessed it, Beacon Hills. Where is the connection between Daehler and Moore you ask? Well, Frank Moore – i.e. Coach Moore of the Beacon Hills High School Swim Team – hosted a party at one of his kids’ house after a meet and police were called when a disturbance was reported. Apparently someone had called and reported an accidental drowning, but when police showed up Frank Moore assured them it had been a prank call and the authorities let it go. A couple days later, Daehler shows up at the hospital with a severe case of pneumonia as well as a couple bruises indicating a struggle of some kind.”

“Daehler was the one who almost drowned at the party,” Lydia pieces together and Stiles pouts.

“Well, yeah I was getting to that.”

“Moore must have threatened him,” Chris figures, “Made sure Daehler was too scared to tell the authorities what really happened.”

“I haven’t even told you the best part yet.”

“There’s more?” John asks and Stiles grins.

“The house where the party was held was Lindsay Turners.”

At first no one says anything, too busy digesting everything Stiles has told them before Allison finally speaks.

“Please tell me you have an address.”

Stiles leans forward to fiddle with his keyboard for a second and then suddenly everyone’s phone goes off.

“Like you have to ask.”

They’re rushing out the door before Stiles can bask in his brilliance. However, Allison presses a quick kiss to his cheek before brushing past him and she throws a promise over her shoulder: A promise to find Derek. Stiles is left standing in an empty room and he almost contemplates calling them back.

‘ _This is a horrible idea’_

Glancing down at the text from Scott, Stiles shakes his head and replies.

‘ _Tell me something I don’t know already. Just do what I asked you to do and everything will be fine Scotty. It’s one guy, how hard can it be to bring him in?_ ’

No one pays attention to Stiles when he strolls out the front door and hops into the remaining black SUV. While listening to his GPS guide him to an abandoned studio a couple miles north of the river, Stiles recalls what little he can of Matt Daehler.

Never without a camera, Daehler had given Stiles the creeps back in high school. Especially during their junior year when Stiles’ girlfriend at the time, Malia Tate, had accused him of taking pictures of her when she wasn’t looking. She broke his camera on his face and didn’t bat a lash at her expulsion; something Stiles had always admired about her. Shortly after that Matt grew quiet and withdrew from most social gatherings even though he was in charge of taking pictures for the high school newspaper. Looking back, Stiles realizes it was around the time of the swim team’s state victory.

No one else ever accused Matt of stalking afterwards, but Stiles never forgot Malia’s suspicions and as he threw his car in park and pulled out his gun, Stiles made a mental note to send her a fruit basket if he made it out there alive.

\- - - - - - - - - -

At first, Derek thinks he’s hallucinating.

Stiles isn’t a field agent: There’s no way he’d be creeping slowly towards him with a gun aimed just ahead. It’s not until Stiles stumbles over a decaying table leg that horror sinks into Derek’s gut and he shakes his head slowly.

“You can’t be here,” he whispers shakily.

Stiles scans his surroundings and when he’s close enough to touch Derek, he lowers his gun and looks to the floor to find something to cut the chains with.

Derek is frantic, hissing at Stiles and cursing his stupidity for not coming with backup.

“How do you know there isn’t a team ready to burst through those doors on my signal?” Stiles asks affronted and Derek doesn’t try to hide his disbelief.

“Because there is no way John would let you endanger yourself like this!”

Stiles’ grimace feeds Derek’s fear and he struggles against the chains as if he could break free and shove Stiles back towards the way he snuck in. Stiles shushes him and continues to look for bolt cutters. He’s not stupid enough to think Daehler would leave the keys lying about. The cocking of a gun makes Stiles’ heart stop and he doesn’t get the change to ponder whether or not he could whip around and shoot before getting shot because Matt tells him to drop his gun.

“Do it or I’ll shot Agent Hale.”

 Cursing internally, Stiles slowly turns and tosses his weapon at Matt’s feet before rising cautiously with his hands coming up beside his head. Derek’s telling him to run, but Stiles ignores him and slides in front of Derek, semi-blocking Daehler's view. 

“Aw, isn’t that sweet,” Matt sneers and Stiles just cocks his head with a grin, ignoring Derek’s growing protests. 

“I should just shoot you right now.”

“No!” Derek yells, but Stiles scoffs.

“If you really wanted to you would’ve already.”

Looking just past Stiles to see Derek, Matt frowns, “I think your friend here has a death wish.”

“I think you’re stalling,” Stiles replies and he crosses his hands over his chest.

Matt moves the gun a fraction to the right and fires: A bullet zooms past, missing Stiles and Derek by a few centimeters. Derek can feel his dislocated shoulder screaming in agony, but he keeps twisting and fighting to get free. Heart pounding in his ears, Stiles plays off his flinch and does what he does best: Rambles.

“You see what I can’t figure out is why you skinned them. I mean, tossing their bodies into the river I get. You almost drowned so of course you’d see it as poetic justice to ‘drown’ them metaphorically since they’re already dead when you dispose of them. But the skinning? That’s a whole nother level of messed up that I don’t even want to touch.”

As his voice echoes in the studio it covers the sound of Stiles’ phone vibrating in his pocket so he keeps going.

“I mean if you’d stabbed them I could probably assume you were… compensating for something, but skinning a body is just sick. I always knew you weren’t right; ever since Malia kicked your ass for stalking her.”

Matt’s shaking by the time Stiles finishes and Derek can see the exact moment he decides to pull the trigger – no games this time. Before that can happen though, the back doors fly open and Chris leads the charge as John comes from the front.

“Drop your weapon!” they both shout as Allison and Lydia surround Matt, guns pointed at his neck and head respectively.

“I said drop your weapon!” Chris shouts, but Matt holds steady – gun pointed at Stiles’ chest – and fires.

Stiles hits the ground seconds before Matt does, Allison taking the shot a second too late. Derek and John are shouting and Chris calls for immediate medical attention. Allison and Lydia stand over Matt’s body as he bleeds out over the concrete floor and they watch, blurry eyed, as John slides on his knees and turns Stiles over so they can address the wound.

Derek feels the chains give and he looks behind him and sees Isaac with a pair of bolt cutters. He’s pale and shaking and he keeps looking at Stiles’ body, but he manages to get Derek down with Chris’ help.

Derek falls to his knees and runs his hands over Stiles’ arms and chest when he doesn’t see any blood.

“Stiles… son?” John asks hesitantly and Derek holds his breath until Stiles suddenly wheezes and curls around John’s knees.

“Holy shit that hurt. I didn’t expect that to hurt as much. Why didn’t Scott tell me that it would hurt that bad?” Stiles whines between large gasps of air.

Derek pulls the collar of his shirt down to reveal a vest cradling a bullet and his relief leaves him lightheaded. Chris helps him lie down next to Stiles who’s still trying to catch his breath. Lydia and Allison are hugging and sniffling into each other’s embrace and Isaac tries to look away before Derek can see his tears, but Derek sees them anyway.

John eventually lets Chris help him to his feet as paramedics rush in. Derek opens his mouth to tell them to help Stiles, but he’s beaten to the punch.

“Help Derek first, he’s been strung up for hours and I think he’s dislocated something.” Stiles tells the woman who kneels next to him. “I’m okay, my vest caught the bullet.”

She nods and motions for her partner to help Derek to his feet.

“You’re gonna have a hell of a bruise,” Chris tells Stiles when he’s able to stand and breathe regularly. Whatever Stiles’ says, Derek can’t hear because a paramedic presses on his shoulder and he nearly faints from the pain.

“Let’s get him up,” someone says and suddenly Derek’s being hoisted onto a gurney. He’s wheeled away before he can hear the rest of the conversation and the last thing he sees before the ambulance doors close is Stiles smiling at him without a trace of regret.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Derek walks out of the hospital the next morning with a sling and a prescription.

Isaac and Lydia are waiting to take him to the airport where the rest of the team is waiting to fly home. They fill him in on the minor details he missed while having his wounds treated. His stomach would have a couple of new scars since Matt had grown impatient while waiting for the team to find him.

“Of course they’ll find me Derek – I’m counting on it.”

That was the last thing he had said before Stiles had shown up.

“Oh, we found out what happened to their skin,” Lydia informed him and Derek grimaced at Isaac who just shrugged. “He was feeding them to a snake he kept in the darkroom.”

“I need a drink,” Derek groused against the car window and Lydia huffed, but changed the subject.

“I’m pretty sure Chris is torn between giving Stiles a commendation or filing for disciplinary action. John’s probably going to chain him to his desk back at Quantico.”

Isaac huffed in amusement in the back seat, but Derek frowned. 

He felt the same way; torn between thanking and strangling Stiles for his reckless behavior. Lydia must sense his conflict because she reaches out to smack his good arm and rants, “Of for the love of God would you stop with the angst? He saved your life okay? He risked what could end up being a demotion or something equally stupid because he wanted to be the one to save you.”

Derek began to protest, but Isaac cut him off.

“It’s quite romantic if you think about it.”

Taken aback, Derek turned in his seat while Lydia tried to stifle her laughter and eyed Isaac who just smiled and went back to his crossword puzzle. Shaking his head in disbelief, Derek settled back into his seat and pulled out his phone that Chris had given him before leaving the hospital. It had eighteen missed calls and ten of them had been from Stiles. Smiling softly at the ‘10 Voicemail’s’ on his screen, Derek pressed play and listened to them over and over again until they reached the airport.

Before boarding, Lydia holds back and pulls Derek into a quick hug.

“If you ever do that to us again I’ll shoot you.”

Derek smiles at her threat and promises to be more careful in the future. He makes a similar promises to Allison when he slides into the seat across the table from her. Derek looks around and his eyes fall on Stiles who’s sprawled across the couch and dead to the world.

“He didn’t sleep well last night,” John explains.

Brow’s furrowed, Derek opens his mouth to apologize, but John’s hand on his shoulder stops him short.

“If you even think of blaming yourself I will personally sit you down and give you the same excruciating safe sex talk I’ve given my son twice already as punishment.”

Derek pales and shoots Chris a dirty look when he snorts into his coffee. Reluctantly, he nods and Chris smiles before patting his shoulder quickly.

“Good, now I expect to see you Sunday night for family dinner. Melissa is making her famous pot roast and I might be able to convince Stiles to make his mother's apple pie.”

Seeing Derek’s confusion, John sighs and pulls out all the stops.

“I’ve had to listen to Stiles gush about you for years Derek and I’ve had to listen to you flirt with him for the same amount of time. Now, if yesterday’s display wasn’t enough, I’m gonna spell it out for you very carefully and hopefully you’ll put us all out of our misery.”

Lydia interrupts, “I highly doubt they’ll tone it down when they start dating.”

Chris and Allison hum in agreement and Isaac, wisely, pretends to be too engrossed in his book to pay attention to what is being said.

“Fair enough,” John concedes and Derek can’t remember the last time he felt so embarrassed he wanted to melt into the floor.

“If I promise never to hurt him can we end this conversation?” Derek asks desperately and John’s kind smile only makes it worse.

“I’m not worried about you hurting him Derek – my concern is whether or not you’ll make him happy before I die of old age.”

“Oh my God Dad can you please stop. If you have ever loved me you will step away from Derek before he panics and decides that jumping out of this plane is a better alternative to this train wreck of a blessing.”

Allison doesn’t attempt to hold back her peals of laughter and John reluctantly raises his hands in defeat before heading over to the couch where Stiles had curled into a tiny ball with vivid red ears. Derek wishes for the gift of invisibility before he has the sense to slide on his headphones and block everyone out until they touch down six hours later. Stiles, John, and Allison take the first car back to the office leaving Derek with Chris and Lydia who tease him subtly and Isaac who eventually joins in to see Derek flush. Thankfully paperwork takes precedence and by the time Scott comes by with Thomas around eight, Derek is done for the day and endures a tight hug and drool on his shoulder. Allison intervenes before Scott can break away and hunt for Stiles and makes sure to give Derek her own hug.

Chris and John leave shortly after that with Lydia and Isaac trailing behind, the two of them talking about a foreign film playing nearby.

Knowing the hasty clear out was for his benefit more than anything; Derek squares his shoulders and heads to Stiles’ office before he can talk himself out of it. The door’s open, like usual, and it takes Stiles a few minutes to realize he isn’t alone. Derek clears his throat and Stiles freezes before slowly turning around in his chair and grinning sheepishly.

“So… is this the part where we pretend nothing happened and continue on with our witty repertoire of mindless flirting and occasional cuddles?”

Seeing Stiles nervously playing with his feathered superhero pen makes something in Derek relax and he shakes his head, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him.

“No Stiles, this is the where I tell you that you scared the living hell out of me yesterday and that I can’t do this job without you.”

His words hang in the air and Stiles’ pen falls to floor with a muffled thump.

“Really?” he whispers, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Really. You are my God-given solace Stiles. I love you.”

Derek’s expecting his words to have a reaction, but he’s not exactly expecting Stiles to leap from his chair and trip, sending him sprawling forward until Derek catches him.

“We’re going to pretend that didn’t happen and instead I fell into your arms because I meant to,” Stiles demands and Derek’s smiling too wide to be effective at kissing Stiles quiet, but they make it work anyway.

“No, come back,” Stiles protests when Derek pulls away to breathe and he lets Stiles drag him back into the kiss until he can’t remember how long they’ve been standing there. When Stiles finally breaks their kiss, lips swollen and tempting, he manages to string some words together.

“So, do you want to have dinner with me and my family this Sunday? I make a mean apple pie.”

Derek leans in to brush his lips against Stiles’ and laughs when he whimpers.

“I’d love to.”

 

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."

\- Lao Tzu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AT LAST MY WORK HAS REACHED ITS END  
> MY WRITER'S BLOCK IS OVER  
> AND I CAN WRITE AGAIN
> 
> Anyway, this was fun. I'm glad I can call this 'complete' even though I have a feeling I might revisit this verse sometime in the future. I'm in the middle of a TW/Practical Magic AU that's really calling for most of my focus so it's a miracle I was able to actually finish this right now.
> 
> I hope I was able to finish this in a way y'all found enjoyable. Thanks for sticking around and/or showing up with lovely comments and kudos!


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